


Blood and Conviction

by Infinite_Monkeys



Series: Family Ties [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Domestic Avengers, Everyone Is Happy And No One Is Dead, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Invisible Cookies, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Mild Blood, No Incest, No Slash, POV Thor (Marvel), Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinite_Monkeys/pseuds/Infinite_Monkeys
Summary: Thor and Loki have been brothers for centuries. It's well past time they make it official.





	Blood and Conviction

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, more fluff! I knew as soon as I referenced the possibility in _Impostor Syndrome_ that I would be writing this eventually, and here we are. 
> 
> That being said, this is part of a series and references some of the events from earlier in the series. I think it can (probably) also stand alone, though, and you all know your own capacity for reading without context. 
> 
> Once again, I own 0% of the characters and settings. They belong to Marvel, or Disney, or whoever's in charge over there these days.

This moment was, in Thor's opinion, long overdue.    
  
He and his brother stood opposite one another in the common area that joined their two rooms. The setting was, Thor thought, remarkably mundane, but perhaps that was fitting. Brotherhood wasn't something that existed in grand gestures, but in the small, mundane things, in knowing each other's most loved and most despised foods, in the small scuffles and pranks and adventures that had made up their childhood, in staying up late and alternating between serious discussions and jokes that brought on disproportionately long fits of chuckling.    
  
Funny that he should think that while they prepared for a grand gesture, but he prepared nonetheless. This way, no matter how hard they fought, how angry they got with one another, neither could deny their brotherhood.    
  
Loki brought the knife, runes newly painted on its side and still gleaming wetly. "Ready," he said, half statement and half question. Thor nodded.    
  
"Remember," he said as he drew the knife over his right palm, leaving behind a long, thin cut that welled with blood, "any injuries made using this knife will scar, and they'll take much longer to heal than you're used to. Be careful." He wiped the blade clean and handed it over.    
  
"I shan't stab myself," Thor said, feeling vaguely insulted.    
  
"Good," Loki said, still eyeing him warily. Thor rolled his eyes and ran the knife along his own palm, surprised by how much it stung.    
  
Loki practically snatched the knife away once he was done, and he raised his eyebrows as it vanished.    
  
"I'm going to destroy it," Loki said shortly. "It's capable of killing us, and I wouldn't want it to fall into anyone else's hands."   
  
"The Midgardians are our friends," he reminded.    
  
Loki raised his own eyebrows now. "Really? Are you willing to stake your life on the idea that of all the seven billion and change mortals running around, not a single one would want to stab you?"   
  
"Fair point," he conceded. He held out his hand, aware of the few droplets of blood that sprinkled on the floor.    
  
Loki took it with his own almost fiercely, clasping them together until the blood mingled. When Thor met his eyes they were burning.    
  
"On this day I claim you," Loki said, "as my brother in blood and conviction. In battle I shall be at your back, in peace by your side. Your kin shall be my kin, your debts my debts, your joy my celebration and your sorrow my grief, until the threads of our lives are cut and after. This I swear."    
  
Thor squeezed his hand in return and repeated the words, his palm scalding where their blood ran together and dripped in mixed droplets onto the tile.    
  
Their gaze met for a significant handful of seconds before, with a final press, they let go and pulled apart.    
  
Loki took a few quick strides over to their kitchen area and pulled out a clean towel, tossing it over. "To stop the bleeding," he explained, grabbing another and applying pressure to his own palm. "No sense in getting an infection. That'd hardly be an auspicious start to our brotherhood, don't you think?"   
  
Thor snorted, lowering his hand from where he had been watching the cut, mesmerized by the slow trickle of blood running over his skin. "This is hardly the start," he said, bunching up the towel and pressing it to the wound. "We've been brothers our whole lives, or near enough. This is just a formality."   
  
"I don't know why we bothered, then," he said, but he looked pleased.    
  
"You of all people should know the power of putting something into words, little Silvertongue," he said, tearing the towel into strips and wrapping them around his hand. The makeshift bandages frayed as he knotted them, and the end result was ragged and unpleasant to look at.    
  
Loki grimaced at his handiwork in disgust before conjuring up a small curved needle and a length of floss. He hooked the needle through his own skin, pulled the floss through, and knotted it using his other hand and his teeth. When he clipped the thread the knot was left in his skin, tangled in the wound as though it were the seam of a tunic.    
  
"I can do you next," Loki offered, pulling another stitch tight. Thor watched in morbid fascination.    
  
"And why would I want to be stitched up like a torn pair of breeches?" He let his skepticism seep into his voice, fiddling with the edge of his cloth bandage.    
  
"The Midgardians do it, because they have no magic and their wounds heal so slowly. It promotes healing and keeps the cut clean."   
  
That sounded positively appalling, and he half-suspected his brother was making it up to mess with him. He made a mental note to ask one of the Avengers later. "I prefer not," he said, and Loki shrugged.    
  
"Suit yourself."   
  
The drops of blood were drying on the tile, so Thor got a paper towel and mopped them up. When he went to throw it away Loki took it from him with a pointed look, incinerating the paper and disappearing the ash. Of course, just like his little brother to be paranoid about leaving a little blood behind, even when no one in the realm had the magic to use it against them.    
  
When Loki pulled the last stitch tight he looked up at Thor as though he were surprised to see him. "You're still here?"   
  
"By your side," Thor said, "like we both just promised."   
  
"It wasn't that literal. Shoo." Loki waved his arms as though chasing away an errant pigeon. "Out of my kitchen. I've something I want to try."    
  
That couldn't be good. Thor groaned. Loki's experiments lately had been part magic, part science, and more often than not, all mischief.    
  
"Go play with your friends," he said, and he sounded exactly like mother had when they were little. It made him chuckle, and more so when Loki shot him an irritated look. "Out."   
  
"I'm going, I'm going." He raised his hands in surrender, then traipsed out into the tower to hunt down some of the other Avengers.    
  
It didn't take long for him to find Clint, Bruce and Natasha sitting around a small table and playing a game of cards. They invited him and he accepted, but though they graciously taught him the rules he wasn't terribly good. The game involved lying to the other players about the cards in your hand, and lying had never been a great talent of his.    
  
His game improved some when he thought to fake lying at every turn, but though Bruce and Clint were occasionally fooled, he was half-convinced Natasha could secretly read minds.    
  
It didn't help his concentration that the cards would occasionally jab at his damaged hand, drawing an involuntary hiss of pain.    
  
"What happened?" Clint asked as it happened once again, and Thor grinned.    
  
"Loki made a knife that renders our flesh mortal beneath it," he said, holding out the bloodied bandage for them to see like a proud child showing off their first practice sword.    
  
"And he stabbed you with it?" Bruce's forehead creased in concern as he frowned. "No offense, but you seem weirdly happy about that. Is everything okay?"   
  
"He did not stab me," Thor said, refusing to let the accusation spoil his mood. "On Asgard there is a tradition where those who are kin by choice can make their family ties official through a ceremony that involves slicing our palms. Loki and I recently learned that we are not related by blood, but now we are blood brothers." He held out the hand, showing them once more. "That it is the right hand signifies that this bond was formed in a time of peace," he explained, running a finger over the bandage and tracing the route of the cut beneath.    
  
"Because you can't use a weapon while it's healing," Bruce guessed, and Thor nodded, pleased.    
  
"Congratulations," Natasha offered, and he smiled wider. "So where's your brother at?"    
  
That did dim his smile a bit. "Experimenting again," he said, and they all grimaced.    
  
"He won't set anything on fire this time, right?" Clint gave him a hopeful look.    
  
"Do not worry. My brother has learned about the alarms you have for fire and smoke now, and he does not enjoy the earsplitting noise that descends from the ceilings with the indoor rain any more than we do. I've no doubt that if he does set a fire, he will hide it from the sensors."   
  
"Greaaat," Clint groaned. "I am so not reassured right now."   
  
"Talking about me?" Thor jumped guiltily, but when he looked his brother was smirking. It was his 'causing trouble' expression, and it did not bode well.    
  
In Loki's hands was an empty plate, which he set in the middle of their table. The four of them eyed it warily.   
  
"What is—" Bruce started to say, but Loki cut him off.    
  
"Invisible cookies!" he proclaimed, gesturing towards the empty plate.    
  
Clint stared at it in mixed awe and horror. "Why?!"   
  
"One," Loki held up a finger, "I wanted to test a hypothesis about the properties of innately invisible objects, and two," another finger and a barely-suppressed quiver of laughter, "anyone who eats them will look incredibly foolish while doing so." He swept an arm above the plate. "Enjoy."   
  
Clint shrugged, made a grab at the empty plate, and proceeded to take a bite out of what looked to be nothing but air. He did, indeed, look incredibly foolish. Loki was almost giggling openly now, and Thor was not far behind him.    
  
Natasha raised an eyebrow and reached for the plate, studying her empty hand with all the intimidating intensity she was capable of. Thor had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling.    
  
Not about to miss out on the fun, he put a hand on the plate as well, feeling around until his fingers closed over something solid. He grinned and took a bite of a decent chocolate-chip cookie he couldn't see. Bruce's "you gotta be kidding me" blended with Clint's amused snort. Loki had gone silent but he was shaking, almost convulsing with suppressed laughter. Tears ran down his reddening cheeks.    
  
Predictably, perfectly, Steve and Tony chose this precise moment to join them.    
  
"What's going on?" Tony shot a suspicious glance at Loki, who was nearly bubbling over with laughter.    
  
Thor deliberately took another large bite of his cookie.    
  
Everything stopped for a second, and the look on Steve and Tony's faces—   
  
Loki wasn't the only one who lost it. Thor and Clint and Bruce all broke down into giggles as well, and even Natasha hid an amused smile behind her hand.    
  
"Seriously, guys, what was that?" Tony's indignant tone left them struggling to regain their composure, and when Loki opened his mouth to explain, he started laughing again. "You guys having an imaginary tea party or something?"   
  
"The children are eating invisible cookies." Natasha held up a hand, the cookie she had picked up earlier still, presumably, balanced on her palm.    
  
"So is that a 'yes', or—" he reached out and his eyes widened when he presumably touched something he couldn't see.    
  
"Wha—I'm taking this to the lab," he said, and hurried off before anyone could stop him. Steve watched him go then pulled up an empty chair and sank down into it.    
  
"That was my cookie." Natasha reached out and took a second one, giving it an experimental nibble.    
  
It was almost as funny as when, a couple minutes later, the stoic Captain America started chewing on the empty air.    
  


* * *

  
  
The cut was healing slowly, and Thor suspected it had to do with more than the magic that rendered his skin temporarily vulnerable.    
  
The scar itself held a fascination for him. Time and time again his fingers would be drawn to his palm, running over the still-healing flesh, poking and prodding at the brand it left in his skin.    
  
Loki's was healing much faster. It was possible he was cheating and helping it along with magic, but when Thor had asked he rolled his eyes and claimed it was because of the stitches and because he didn't keep _poking_  at it.    
  
He still held his books open with his left hand, though, leaving the right resting beside him on the couch cushions, palm up with the faint pinkish line exposed. Thor poked at it, curious to see whether it was still sore.    
  
Loki yelped and jerked his hand back, then whipped around to glare at his brother. "Don't," he said.    
  
Thor sat down next to him, leaning back against the cushions and letting out a deep breath. He took to pondering his own scar once more, running his thumb along the slightly upraised ridge of flesh even though it stung.    
  
Almost without thinking, he reached across the gap in between them, running his fingers over the matching scar on Loki's hand. It made him smile, this similarity they now shared after years of tallying up the differences in their appearances even before they learned they shared no blood.    
  
Except now, they did.    
  
Loki slammed his book closed, tearing his hand away. "Stop that," he said. "It's bad enough you keep scratching at yours. It itches enough without your prodding."   
  
Thor reached out again, half in jest, but then they locked eyes that burned with challenge, and well, they were _brothers_.    
  
If Loki hadn't dodged to the side, Thor's lunge would have caught him and pinned him to the arm of the couch. As it was, they were both sent rolling to the floor, knocking against the coffee table and then, by mutual and unspoken agreement, rolling away from it and into the open space near the entrance to the room.    
  
His wrist gave a warning twinge as Loki caught hold of his fingers and twisted them around, and he broke the hold by smashing their hands against the floorboards. He followed this up by sitting on his brother, attempting to pin his arms with his knees, but Loki wriggled out from under him like an eel and pulled a lock of his hair, using the second of distraction to flip him over onto his back.    
  
Thor had to hold back a laugh at how normal this felt, fighting as though they were still children wrestling over the last of the rolls they'd pilfered from the kitchens. They hadn't fought, not like this, in far too long. It was different than wrestling his half-mad uncle atop a building in the Battle of New York, and before that it had been a long time since they'd been together long enough for a spar. After Loki had returned he'd been confined to the healing wing, and even after that he had avoided all fights, keeping a measured distance from the training grounds.    
  
He suspected it had something to do with the time his brother refused to speak about, the unacknowledged weeks or months he'd spent in Thanos' grasp. Because of that, and because he was wary of pushing his brother away yet again, he hadn't pressed, but it still filled him with relief that they were back to fighting again.    
  
Less pleasant was the sharp pain that ran through the arm he was using to hold his brother off. He jerked back and looked down his arm to find an even set of red marks on the skin and a very smug brother. Loki had _bit_  him.    
  
Thor grappled his way on top and reached out a hand, summoning Mjolnir from the adjoining room. He intended to set the hammer down on his brother and pin him, and his mind was already working to counter Loki's inevitable complaints about cheating. Something about having the blood of the god of mischief in his veins, or about how it showed that they were now truly related.    
  
What he did not intend was for Mjolnir to smack into his waiting palm and thereby the tender, still-healing cut that ran along his hand.    
  
Thor _howled_  in pain and shock as a white-hot burst of pain shot up his arm, completely out of proportion with the tiny size of the injury. He rolled off his brother, quarrel and hammer forgotten as he curled around his hand.    
  
Loki's alarm faded to amusement as it dawned on him what had happened, and soon he was cackling on the floor, red-faced and out of breath.     
  
"Did," he gasped, "did you really not see that coming? What did you think would happen?"   
  
Thor groaned, still putting pressure on the tiny cut with his thumb. He knew it wasn't bleeding and he couldn't let go. "How can something so tiny hurt this much?" He took a sharp breath, then let it out as a pitiful moan.    
  
"You're the one who wanted to do this," Loki said with no sympathy whatsoever in his voice. Thor grimaced.   
  
"I don't regret it," he said, because he didn't. The pain would pass.    
  
Loki stared at him impassively for a few seconds, then pushed himself up to a sitting position and extended his hand. "Give it here," he ordered, and Thor complied.    
  
Almost immediately the pain faded to a dull prickle, and Thor breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, catching hold of Loki's wrist.    
  
His brother rolled his eyes and pulled away. "You're such a baby."    
  
Thor huffed. "I mean it. Thank you."   
  
"The spell is only temporary," he reminded. "You need to let it heal. It'll still be there when you do."   
  
Thor was saved from coming up with a reply when several of the Avengers burst through their door. "We heard a commotion," Clint said over his drawn bowstring.    
  
Loki laughed. "No cause for worry. Thor here hit himself in the hand with his own hammer."    
  
It itched at him when they all looked to him for confirmation, as though it were easier to believe that they'd turned on each other than to take his brother's word. Still, he nodded, and the tension went out of the room.    
  
"Actually, it was quite amusing, if you'd like to hear..."   
  
He groaned and settled in on the couch as his friends stood down and the tale of their recent scuffle, exaggerated for comedic effect, was shared.    
  


* * *

  
  
"Loki," he said when they were alone once more, but he stopped when he wasn't quite sure how to put the question into words. Something was itching at his mind in the same way the healing scab itched on his palm. He scratched at it, searching for a way to explain the worry that nagged at him.    
  
"What?"    
  
"Do you think—I was just wondering—" he sighed. "Father did this too. With our Uncle."   
  
Loki sat up from where he had curled back into a pile of pillows on the couch. "That wasn't a question."    
  
"No. What I mean—" he cut himself off with a frustrated huff.    
  
"You're worried we'll turn out like they did. Brothers who become enemies." Thor nodded, and Loki leaned back, staring into space. "I'm not."    
  
"But Father is revered for his wisdom. If he couldn't prevent a rift from growing between them..."   
  
"Then what hope have we?" Loki smiled. "You know, Father told me I reminded him a good deal of our uncle when he was younger. The more I learn, the more I think it's true. I'm a lot like him."   
  
Thor opened his mouth to protest, but Loki carried on. "So is Father, I think. They both are stubborn and scheming and have a tendency towards holding old grudges and letting anger fester. They fed off each other, built on that sense of competition, which I think is why they got along so well until they didn't."   
  
He took a deep breath before continuing, and Thor could feel him forcing himself to relax. His brother had been making an effort to be more open, in part, he thought, to set himself apart from his namesake. "I am at times very uneasy with myself," he confessed. "I could see how being that close with someone too similar to me—it would be problematic. But you," he stopped and his gaze went distant, as though he were looking into the past. "I used to be jealous, when we were younger, because everyone liked you better."   
  
"That's not true," Thor said quickly, and Loki shot him a look. He quieted.    
  
"Whether or not it's true is not important. What is important is that I believed it. And the true issue, I think, is that _I_  always liked you better. I drove myself half-mad with it, at times, wishing I could be more like you."    
  
"I would hate that," Thor said, and he realized he meant it. "If you were more like me growing up, there's be no one to check our arrogance or challenge us to use cunning as well as strength. I can't even begin to imagine the foolish things we would have done."   
  
Loki chuckled. "For all that I've given up on trying to be you, I think I still like you better," he confessed, and the raw emotion in his eyes compelled Thor to pull him into an embrace.    
  
"Then I shall have to like you better, so it all evens out," he said, and Loki embraced him back, and it was like the tension between them was a cord that had been cut.    
  
"And that," he said, pulling back, "is why I don't think we'll end up like the last generation."   
  
"Fair enough, little brother." Thor ruffled his hair in the way he knew Loki hated, and Loki poked his still-healing hand in retaliation. "Fair enough."   
  



End file.
